Films About Ghosts
by tore-my-yellow-dress
Summary: Let's play a game and pretend Eli never erased the voicemail. AU. Tag to 7x11.


**A/N— Sorry, not sorry. I know it's been a while since I wrote TGW fanfiction, but then I saw the preview for 7x11, and I was like… Willicia and 5x15, never forget.**

* * *

Her heart never leaves her throat.

She's in a women's bathroom and she's looking in the mirror, and it doesn't look like there's any blood in her face at all. She's putting her phone back in her purse. She's walking out into a crowd. She's leaving the building.

She's not telling anyone where she's going.

Alicia is just _going._

And, if only for the smallest second, she thinks of what it felt like to stand in a Mercer's Dry Cleaning and look up at a television screen. To see her life breaking in breaking news. She thinks of how that felt.

Alicia Florrick knows that it is a terrible thing to trust someone so much that they can unmake the whole universe. She knows that feeling. She doesn't know _this._ Her heart never leaves her throat, not once, and her hands quake when she digs through her bag to find her keys. Alicia almost dumps the whole thing on the black pavement to end the struggle. Gets it off her shoulder and then stops when she realizes that's not something a sane person would do.

It's only a voicemail.

Alicia presses the heel of her clammy palm to her forehead. She calmly retrieves her keys from a side pocket. Unlocks the car. Opens the door. Slides into the driver's seat. Starts the engine. Puts it into gear.

She presses her foot to the gas pedal, and unmakes her universe.

/

She's afraid if she hears his voice she will start crying. Or worse, her voice will shake so terribly he will question, and then _she_ will question— and she can't have that. Alicia texts him at a stoplight instead. It's her phone and the red glow of the light, and it seems as if Chicago is holding its breath, it's so very quiet. Chicago is also fucking _cold,_ and she _knows_ what she's done, what she's doing, and she's got to get warm.

Alicia has this sudden need to touch him, any part of him. As if the second she kisses her prince, the spell will be broken, and everything will be okay. It's crazy. She doesn't know this, know the romance. It reminds her vaguely of Lifetime movies and her mother.

This kind of delusion is reserved for other women. Women who aren't Alicia.

And still.

 _My apartment,_ she texts. _Now._

It takes him less than ten seconds to respond. The person behind her honks but she has to reread it twice. To be sure.

 _I'm on my way_ , he says.

/

Then he's there, and the hall light casts yellow shadows over his face,

And he says her name. All quiet.

Her heart has never once left her throat, and it's suddenly so very loud, almost drowns it out.

He says her name again. Something unnervingly focused about the look he's giving her, and she just stands there with the door open. Like an _idiot._ Like some dumb 2L at Georgetown, newborn to the sensation of a man looking at her like she's the only thing in his world that matters.

Will takes a step forward.

She opens her mouth, lets whatever it is that _it_ is out.

"Let's make a plan," she murmurs. Her voice cracks, and it takes her a moment to realize her face is so hot because she's crying, but then he really _moves,_ and he's taking her face in his hands, and he's kissing her.

And _oh_. Oh, it's perfect.

/

Will's uneven breathing tickles her right ear, and the chorded muscles in her neck ache from the strain but she can't stop the arching, and everything is fire, everything. She feels in control, but her body is not her own. And he is groaning, and she digs her nails into his shoulders and hopes she doesn't hurt him.

"Yes," she hisses, eyes wide open. " _Yes_."

/

When she asks Peter for a divorce, he asks her if it's because of Will.

"No," she tells him. "It's because I want to be happy."

"But you're with Will?" he questions, jaw hard.

She smiles at Peter.

"Yes. Will makes me happy."

/

"Alicia, I'd give up everything for you," he tells her. "I love you."

/

When his wet mouth falls to the crook of her neck, his brown eyes meet her own, something loaded about the gaze.

He begins to suck at her throat.

Alicia's toes curl. Alicia never tells Will to stop.

/

"Is this about you dating Will Gardner?" Grace inquires the moment she and Zach are seated in the living room. They're both in their pajamas. It's a school night, but she couldn't wait any longer— and Will has been bugging her to meet them. Officially.

Alicia stares at her daughter evenly. Takes a deep breath. "Yes, it is."

Grace looks at Zach. Alicia looks at the floor.

Zach shrugs, finally. A pronounced movement that's practically cartoonish. "I'm cool with it."

Alicia's head moves sharply. Eyebrows at her hairline. "Really?"

"We've known for a while," Grace informs her.

The girl doesn't look upset, but she doesn't look eager, either. "We were just waiting for you to tell us."

/

They collectively decide upon pizza. They all have pizza together at Alicia's apartment. Grace talks to Will about her faith, and Will helps Zach wash the dishes after dinner. And Will makes them laugh. Will is _funny,_ and even if it takes them a good fifteen minutes to warm up, Will Gardner is likable, and her kids like him.

Her kids end up liking him a whole lot.

/

"Have dinner with me?"

They are alone together after a deposition.

He's pulled her close, strokes her lower back. People will talk, and they don't care.

"Courting me, Mr. Gardner?" she teases, the yes already in her voice.

"Something like that."

/

Diane only says something about it once.

"I'll be doing your performance reviews from now on," she tells Alicia, eyes at her papers. A beat. A look.

Diane's lips lift at the corners. Just slightly. "I wish you both the best. Really."

/

Will likes stripping her down after a day in court. Likes taking her home when he knows the kids are with Peter, likes closing the door and pushing her up against it.

Will likes dropping to his knees.

/

The night Alicia finds out Kalinda screwed Peter, Will holds her, brushes away the warm tears.

"I'd fire her," he suggests, low. Furious.

"No," she whimpers. "No, it has nothing to do with you or work."

He pushes her hair back from her face, cups her cheeks.

"Alicia, if someone hurts you it has everything to do with me."

/

They've been doing it for a little more than seven months when he asks her if she wants to live with him. He's helping put up the Christmas tree. Alicia has never been overly festive, but Grace was insistent, and Will encouraged it. Grace and Zach are in the kitchen making everybody eggnog, and all this seems so cliché, but Alicia has sparkly garland boa snaking around her limbs, and it just comes out.

He's looking at her and thinking how much he wants this every Christmas, and he just asks. Loudly.

She stares at him for a moment.

And he— God. William Paul Gardner _blanches._

"I didn't mean to— I know my apartment isn't big enough, I—

"Will."

He shuts up. She cocks her head. Breathes out. Slow.

"I have to talk to my children," she says, finally. And he knows it's not a no. And he's so glad it's not a no.

It's another few minutes before she wonders where Grace and Zach have gone, but then they're there, drinks in hand. She's always underestimated them, her kids. She forgets, sometimes, how old they're getting.

"We wouldn't mind," Zach says lightly. Grace offers Will his eggnog. He takes it, swallowing hard.

"We wouldn't mind if you lived with us," Grace reiterates. "I mean, if you want."

/

Will teaches Zach how to drive.

/

Languid sunlight filters through the blinds, and she moans softly. He stretches, turns off the alarm, and then curls back into her warmth. Presses his lips to the crown of her hair, rubs her arm.

"Good morning," she yawns, blinking hard.

"Good morning," Will tells her. Easy. Peaceful. His hair still ruffled from the position he slept in.

Normal.

/

Their first real fight is over a case. They disagree on strategy. It's silly, and she's only a third year associate, and she's sick of having to watch Caitlin strut her blonde ass all over the office, and she's tired.

It's midnight. They brought it home.

"You're impossible, Will. You don't understand—

"I do understand, Alicia, but you're forgetting that I am still your boss—

"Then maybe I don't want you to be my boss anymore," she growls at him, all teeth.

The air hangs heavy.

"I think you need to sleep on the couch tonight," she suggests tightly.

He yanks a pillow off the bed.

When it happens, the make-up sex rocks.

/

"Alicia, I'd give up everything for you," he tells her.

/

The same case they fought over is the one that prompts Diane to suggest making Alicia a partner.

/

Will's grasp is cool and firm as he fastens the diamonds to her wrist. His kiss is firm. Her heart is full.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Alicia."

/

Will is never suspended, but Alicia still meets his sisters.

"Will used to talk about you a lot," Aubrey recalls.

"He still talks about you a lot," Sarah corrects.

/

Zach is sixteen and touring colleges, and Will suggests they go with him this particular journey because he says he's too sentimental to pass up the opportunity. Grace wants to come along, too. Later, Alicia will understand why.

They're in the middle of the National Mall after a day of touring Georgetown, sunset warm on their faces. Long ago, a lifetime ago, they would study in the grass. Alicia is pointing something out to Grace, and she only has her back turned for a split second. But Will says her name, and she turns.

And he's down on one knee.

/

Peter decides to run for Governor of Illinois. And that's a shit show. The press is absolutely vicious.

/

It's supposed to be a game. Red team. Blue team.

If it's supposed to be a joke, it ends up not being very funny.

"So, what? You're the victim here?" he snarls.

"I am! Yes!" she shrieks.

He kisses her, and it's so real, and his tongue is hot and she's pressing herself against him, desperate, already wet.

"Will, is anybody else here?" she pants against his mouth, fumbling for his belt buckle.

"I don't think so," he mutters, and he's already got her skirt pushed up her hips. Helps her onto the desk.

/

The night of the Shamrock Dinner, the night she's pulled in for questioning regarding Mr. Ashbaugh's murder, Will is absolutely terrified. He follows her to the police station after he finds out about the evidence. The second he sees her, he pulls her into his arms. Holds her. And she realizes she's not the one that's scared.

/

Grace helps her choose the venue, choose the colors. Navy and emerald. September. Small and intimate.

She remembers getting married to Peter, telling herself she'd never wear white again.

Never say never.

/

The ballots are cast out. Peter doesn't win. It doesn't affect them.

/

"'Til death do you part?"

"I do."

 _I do. I do. I do. Will, I love you. I do. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I do. I do. I do._

How grown up Zach looks, in his tux. How beautiful Grace looks, by her side.

And Will. _Will._

/

They honeymoon in Italy. Go to vineyards. Eat a lot of cheese. Make love.

/

"Alicia, I'd give up everything for you," he tells her. Again. And again.

/

"This is Alicia Gardner speaking."

/

Diane is offered the judgeship. Alicia is offered managing partner. And then. And then—

/

Will offers her a glass of wine, and she snaps at him. Just a bit.

Cary tried to leave with some clients. That's the problem, she tells herself.

"Hey," he gets her attention sharply, frowning. "What's your problem?"

"We are up to our elbows in busy work, Will," she responds darkly, putting distance between them. "I still have two depositions that I'm finishing getting prepared for tomorrow, everything is a mess—I'm trying to insure we keep clients that Cary is trying to poach, and literally don't have time. I don't have time to have a single glass of wine."

Her eyes glitter darkly, and she's bating him, she's trying to get him to lash out, but he doesn't, he—

He stops. Looks her over. Purses his lips.

"Are you worried you're not doing a good job?"

"What?"

"Alicia, you're managing partner now. The partners are doing busy work too. It's not all on you— I— you're doing a good job, Alicia. You don't have to overextend yourself. Diane had a life. You can have a life. I wouldn't have chosen you if I didn't want you by my side. And it's not because you're my wife."

He flashes a smile, leans in. Alicia looks down. Sets her jaw.

"Will, I'm not as good as Diane," she tells him. The raw vulnerability in her tone tightens his chest.

"Alicia, no—

When she looks up, her eyes are shining. "Will, I'm late."

/

The worry, the stress, the _how am I going to do both,_ but then—

There's Will, and she's sitting on the edge of the tub, and he's pacing and then he's stopping. And they're both silent. And then he's laughing. And he's on his knees. And he's kissing her with an open mouth, he's kissing her, and he's looking at her with such wonder and adoring gratitude in his eyes.

"I'm going to be a Dad," he's saying, like a little boy on Christmas. "I'm going to be a _Dad._ "

/

They buy a house together, and he's got yellow paint on his cheek, and he's feeling the baby move inside her, he's crying he's so happy. They're so _happy_.

/

Nothing more beautiful.

Nothing more beautiful and perfect than seeing Will holding their child. Surely, like he was meant to do it his whole life. Looking down at the weight in his arms as if it was his whole universe. Looking at her. She keeps getting to see the way he looks at her. Like she is something holy. Like this is the sun, and the moon, and the stars.

"Alicia, I love you," he tells her. "Alicia, I love you," he tells her, and he's holding their child in his arms.

And she thinks, _it wasn't just a voicemail._

 _It was a life._

 _/_

.

.

.

.

.

The plates are shatter, all around her. She makes them shatter.

And she's thinking, _an awful lot could have happened in six years._ And she's thinking about what didn't happen.

And she's shattering.

She's shattering.


End file.
